Enmity of Atlas

Trenton sat on the plain wooden chair, tapping his foot anxiously, his eyes darting around the dark room. There was no doubt about what he’d seen. It was back, its message practically the exact same as before. A handful of shrill shrieks and it was off, away into the night without a word. But what exactly it meant, and why it was happening again now, were both things beyond Trenton. Despite this, he stressed, his mind racing over what to do. Wander the hallways to see what was happening? No. Wake everyone up over his stupid superstitions? No. Stay there to guard Leo? Maybe.

All of these thoughts raced through Trenton’s mind, no action being taken in any particular direction. What really worried him above all else was where the hell Garrote was. Garrote left for his fresh air several hours ago, but never returned. Had he gotten lost? Did something happen? Was he dead? Trenton was losing his mind sitting there. He needed to do something, to clear his mind if nothing else. But just as he got up to do something about it, the handle on the door clicked, the door slowly swinging open. Trenton summoned his hammer, ducking low to the ground in between the door and Leo so as not to be seen.

Two dark figures crept into the room, their blades barely visible by the glint of moonlight shining through the window. The moment they were close enough, Trenton stepped forward, swinging his hammer in a horizontal arc, splattering both of their guts across the wall in one clean swing. Trenton wasn’t imagining things. They were being attacked. Behind him, Leo bolted out of bed, his eyes alight with an intensity Trenton had never seen before, his sword already in his hand. It seemed he was ready for this. Good.

“Stick close to me. We need to find the others,” Trenton said, making for the door.

“Right behind you,” Leo replied, resolute. It seemed that he was really ready for this.

Trenton and Leo burst through the door, weapons raised high. Outside, dozens of black robed figures littered the hallway, their heads swiveling towards Trenton and Leo in surprise. Trenton turned left, slamming his foot into the ground, the ground beneath the soldiers in a 30 foot line erupting in perfectly vertical spikes, which skewered them before they had a chance to move. Meanwhile, Leo turned right, swinging his blade in a horizontal arc, sending out an arc of fire, which seared its way through the men, cutting them clean in half.

“Come on!” Trenton said, running past Leo, his feet squishing against the viscera of the slain men.

For some reason, even though they were making a lot of noise, the whole compound was quiet, no sound permeating the air other than their own footsteps. It didn’t make any sense. Surely not everyone was dead yet. But as they kept running, taking corners, making noise so as to wake up any who might’ve still been sleeping, they noticed that all the rooms already had their doors hanging ajar, bloody trails leading further down the hallway. They had been working fast. Maybe there wasn’t anyone left alive. Maybe it was just them.

“Duck!” Leo shouted from behind him, Trenton obeying without question.

Trenton could hear something sailing over his head, a sharp whistling sound piercing the air. Trenton whipped around, turning on his heel to get a strong stance against whatever it was. Behind them, a tall man was approaching slowly, his hands full of long metal darts. He was absolutely coated in blood, a wide smile on his face.

“I told them to wait for me. I knew you two would be trouble, but they just didn’t listen. Oh well. Tonight's feast has been marvelous. I’ve had-” the man said, Trenton cutting him off.

Trenton slammed his hammer into the wall, sending a quake through the stone to loosen the rocks above the man, the ceiling collapsing on top of him. Instead of retreating back, the man darted forward, slinging several of the darts in rapid succession. Leo parried the darts, ducking to allow Trenton to pass him. They didn’t have time for this. Trenton leapt past Leo, the man summoning a hammer of his own from the ground beneath himself.

His smile was wide as Trenton approached his massive wall of flesh, the man surely besting Trenton in terms of physical combat. But he was sorely mistaken. In two swift strikes, Trenton knocked the man off balance, his whole body staggering backwards, before Trenton slammed his hammer into the man’s side, driving him into the wall to Trenton’s right, summoning earth spikes to come out of the wall and pierce the man’s body in the same motion. For a moment, the man spasmed, his darts dropping to the ground with hard plinks. He was dead.

Well that was fast. Trenton had been growing stronger, magically and physically, but he didn’t realize how much he’d grown. That man couldn’t have been any weaker than the blood crazed man back in Wyrm’s Perch. Well, good to know, but they didn’t have the time to loiter. Trenton and Leo picked back up their fast pace, eventually bursting through a large steel door, coming out into a spacious courtyard littered with corpses, a familiar looking black haired man standing in the center, looking up at an ominous dragon's skull hovering in the sky. The man looked over at them, his expression almost wistful.

“I’m glad you could make it. You two will make lovely capstones.”

***

Garrote staggered through the halls, his head pounding. On one hand, he really should not have used so much magic earlier, the magically induced hangover he was now experiencing threatening to rip him in half. But on the other hand, they probably wouldn't even be alive if he hadn't thrown his inhibitions farther than the eye could see. So maybe it was worth it, but god's damn did he feel like…bad. He felt bad. He really ought to stop swearing so much. He’d been doing pretty good, biting his tongue before he spoke, but he almost let loose a long string of colorful words in front of Millie a couple of days ago when they were climbing, the strain getting to him. He wasn’t that much older than her, only being just barely 17 himself, but he still ought to try and be a role model for her.

Garrote took a turn, stumbling through a smaller door to the outside of the compound. He wasn’t sure where he was, but it didn’t really matter. He’d figure out how to find his way back later. The second he stepped through the door, a great wave of relief washed over him, the cool night air a glorious sensation against his burning skin. Garrote spent a while wandering around, going up different staircases and ladders until he was standing on top of the compound. It was a pretty nice view, helping distract from his headache somewhat. Garrote sat on a ledge overlooking the rest of the compound rubbing his forehead. It was rather serene as far as Garrote was aware, a slight breeze ruffling his already ruffled hair. It was a little loud, but he was able to ignore the noise pretty easily. After some unknown amount of time sitting there, Garrote’s mind wandering the whole while, he felt…still really bad. If anything, the pain was even worse than before. He was calmer now, though. He should head back to the room now. Where was it again?

Garrote stood up, looking with clarity for the first time since he’d gotten up there. Hovering in the sky was a colossal black shape reminiscent of a dragon's head, parts of it glowing with a brilliant red luminescence. Huh. That was weird. Garrote thought back to when he first got up there. He didn’t remember there being a massive dragon’s skull hovering in the sky, but he wasn’t really paying too close attention. His head did hurt a ton.

Behind him, the subtlest swish of fabric gave away the presence of another person. Under normal circumstances, Garrote might have assumed it was Trenton coming to bring him back, but something about the MASSIVE DRAGON SKULL hovering in the air made him think that just maybe they were under attack. Garrote stepped forward off the ledge, twisting around to look behind him, holding himself aloft over the fall with his magic. It was a peculiar way to dodge an attack, but it worked. The black cloaked figure that had been sneaking up on him whiffed their attack horribly, catching nothing but air with their swing. Garrote, his mind still foggy with pain, made an odd decision, using his magic in a way he’d never thought to do before. Typically, Garrote just used his magic to push or stall people. But not this time.

Garrote flicked his wrist, summoning a gravity well on top of the person pushing down on them, the great force of his magic pressing their being into the ground. He had expected to break their bones or something, but instead, the moment he applied the magic, the entirety of the person's form peeled off of the bone, their spinal cord standing upright as the rest of their body was shoved into a red puddle of organs beneath them. They tried to scream, but they only got a short shout out before they started gagging on their own blood, dying long before they managed to choke to death.

Garrote never thought his magic anywhere near strong enough to do direct damage on its own, but it turned out that he was wrong. All the strain he’d been putting himself through to get them through the desert wasn’t for nothing. His head did start pounding again, though, easily redoubling its efforts to bring Garrote to his knees. It hurt a lot, but he didn’t really have another choice. He had to use his magic if he intended to fight. He could try just using physical means, go more of the Trenton route, but that never seemed quite like his style. He was always more partial to a solid mix of utility graviturgy and swordsmanship, both abilities complimenting each other. Now, however, he might have to consider using lethal graviturgy as well. He wasn’t entirely sure what that would mean, being wholly unfamiliar with using his magic to kill outright, but he had a little bit of time to experiment, at least while they were still under attack.

Garrote pushed himself back over the ledge, landing mostly upright on his feet. People in black cloaks were starting to swarm onto the roof, some of them glowing with arcane might. Oh this would be really fun. Maybe he could even use a pyromancer's own flame to kill them, redirect it with his magic. Wait, could pyromancer’s even be hurt by their own fire? Could they be hurt by fire at all? Questions to ask Leo later. For now, he had a couple other idea’s he was rather keen on…experimenting with.